


a battery of guilt on which to poise (i'm dead before i...)

by violetinfidel



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inferiority complexes, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Secret Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Tags May Change, based loosely off the revelations timeline but not the same, im not writing this in linear fashion at the moment SO these tags will be updating, some tragic backstories naturally, stuff.... happens in this fic hdoiwaflnkafakw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-17 16:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetinfidel/pseuds/violetinfidel
Summary: Since Kamui's kidnapping, the Hoshidans have had ample reason to distrust Nohr and its inhabitants. Takumi holds the grudge closest to his heart, and it festers, only takes root deeper as he grows older.One day the Hoshidans receive an unexpected missive- a letter from the Nohrian royals, requesting correspondence from the royals of Hoshido. It's an offer they never thought they'd see: they want to give Kamui back to his real family.The king of Nohr doesn't know, and neither must the empress of Hoshido.Somehow, in the midst of war, they have to find a way to return the stolen prince to his birth family, all the while trying to end the fighting.But Kamui doesn't want to go "home", and he doesn't want to stay in Nohr, either.





	a battery of guilt on which to poise (i'm dead before i...)

Takumi has never been to Nohr before. Not so much as a toe over the boundary line. 

He’d had a vague sense of ‘forbidden’ when he was very, very young, when his father still lived and Kamui was still with them. He knew that the people from Nohr weren’t all that kind, or at least not the politicians- he’d go with his father to the councils between the kingdoms, curious as ever (and not wanting to refuse anything his big brother invited him to), and he’d walk into the room with his head held high, and promptly hide behind Ryouma's chair. The Nohrian high court would look upon him with withering, somehow disappointed glares, though he’d said not a word to them yet. They always dressed in thick, concealing clothes, and nothing apart from blacks and grays (the most color he’d seen on them was a drippy sullen purple that reminded him of nightshade poison). They put to mind all the harbingers of death he’d heard in the stories Ryouma sometimes read him, and he was afraid of them.

Then the Nohrians killed his father, and stole his brother, and that fear curdled quickly to hatred. (Much of that hatred was dedicated to Nohr and its people, but he kept some for himself, and turned it inward. It drove his every action until it became an integral part of him.)

As a young boy, before the death ( _ the murder _ ) of his father, he’d talked about being a scholar, an advisor to serve under his big brother Ryouma when he took the throne someday- he loved Ryouma, and he felt secure in the knowledge that Ryouma loved him too, and he wanted nothing more to keep that bond strong. 

But he hated Nohr, and his soft-spoken role model was dead now, bloodied by Nohrian hands, and there was no one to curb his hate (there was, if he had only asked, if he had only spoken up). So he put aside his scrolls, and took up the bow.

He tried the katana at first. It didn’t work out. Ryouma, his brave, strong, beloved big brother, had already been training with blades for several years. Ryouma was bigger and stronger and better than him. He could never get a hit in on Ryouma when they sparred- he was slow and awkward, and Ryouma was lightning-quick and graceful as a swan. He left their training sessions each day with fresh bruises blooming on both his skin and his ego, and he felt like he was running in quicksand: so much effort, but never getting better, only sinking down further. So a year after he first picked up the katana, he gave it up.

“You aren’t giving up, Taki.”

“Yes I am,” He says stubbornly, eyes hot, throat tight, sheathed katana in his hands and held out towards Ryouma. 

Ryouma is a serious boy now, nearly a man in his own right, and it’s difficult for Takumi to hold that solemn gaze. “You are not.”

Takumi thrusts the katana into his arms, and takes a step back before Ryouma can think to hit him with it or force him to take it back. “I am!”

` Ryouma sets the weapon down with great respect for it, and then steps towards Takumi, towering over him in that calmly menacing way only older siblings can. “You have been training for a _year_. You aren’t even past your dulled sparring blade.”

“I’m no good at it,” He says, and his voice cracks.

Ryouma doesn’t say, ‘you will be, with more practice’. He doesn’t say ‘of course you are- you’re new, that’s all’. He doesn’t say ‘no, you aren’t, but you’re working hard, and I’m proud’. (Ryouma regrets that, years later, looking back.)

Ryouma says: “That’s a pathetic reason. You’re a Hoshidan, and a prince. You don’t  _ give up _ .”

“Well, I  _ do _ , and I  _ am _ .” And he’s crying now, and he’s hating every second of it. He hadn’t wanted it to go this way. He loves Ryouma, inadequate as he makes him feel sometimes. Ryouma never means to, anyway; he’s just talented, and loved, and older.

Ryouma looks like he’d like to say so much- he’s got that fire in his eyes, the kind he gets when their mother mentions the Nohrian politics in front of him. 

But he turns away, and goes back to his practice, and all he says is “I’m disappointed, Takumi.” It’s the first time in  _ years _ that he hasn’t used some silly nickname, and Takumi’s always thought that he hated those nicknames, but now, in the absence of them, he realizes that it hurts.

A week later, after he’s sulked sufficiently, he decides that he’s going to try the naginata.

That goes much the same, but it’s Hinoka’s scorn he earns this time. 

He tries so hard, but she’s just so much  _ better _ , so much more power in her arms and so much more elegance in her movement. Once, early on, Ryouma looks upon their training session, and he mentions that he’s proud of Hinoka for her skill, and that he’s proud of Takumi for deciding to try at something new. Takumi preens, and tries harder than ever. A month later he’s despondent again, and Ryouma only tells him that his behavior is unbecoming of a prince, and to try harder. 

Takumi surrenders the naginata too, and flees from Hinoka before she can tell him how disappointed she is, too. He doesn’t need to hear it to know it.

And Sakura, young though she is, is already useful- her sweet and compassionate nature makes her an excellent healer, and she’s been working towards that goal since she was old enough to hold a staff. 

Takumi is the only one without direction.

That’s why he tries the yumi, and he isn’t even good at first.

But there’s the decided benefit (?) of having no siblings who can instruct him in the yumi, which means that he gets one of their royal archers to show him the ropes. And it’s still discouraging, because he struggles with drawing the yumi at first; the naginata and the katana trained entirely different muscle groups. By the time he can draw a respectable weight he’s hardly worked on aim, and all around it takes him half a year to get to any level of skill that he would feel even remotely comfortable displaying. 

He doesn’t tell Ryouma what he’s doing, because he’s always seemed to hold a kind of disdain for those who choose to fight from afar. But Ryouma catches wind some way or another, as big brothers are wont to do, and he comes to visit him as he practices, and for once that near-crippling fear of disappointing his brother makes him  _ better _ instead of worse. 

It’s his first day shooting at moving targets, and the wind keeps blowing his hair in his face (he’s been growing it out) and he’s sure that he’s going to do terribly, which means embarrassing himself in front of Ryouma once again.

But he pours all of his attention and focus and care into his first shot- if he fails all the rest for the full two hours, be that as it may, but let him have this one. Just to see his reaction.

Not only does he hit the target, he hits it dead center, and the arrow strikes so truly that it sinks halfway into the wood before stopping. Eyes blazing with triumph, he turns to look at Ryouma- Ryouma stands there, arms crossed, sword at his hip, implacable. 

Takumi is hurt, and he’s also  _ angry _ \- he’s proud of himself, and no one else is proud of him, but it’s Ryouma’s  _ job _ as the eldest brother to be proud of him, and he isn’t.

He can’t dwell on everything he wants to say and do, though, because he’d promised himself two hours of practice a day at least, and Ryouma is still there watching, not saying a word. His shooting is impeccable that day, even his jaded instructor says so, and all Ryouma says is “I’d hope so.”

Takumi is there as Ryouma receives Raijinto, his reward for his endless hard work, his birthright. All through the ceremony he is dimly aware, in the back of his mind, of some other family heirloom, but it doesn’t matter much to him. He knows he won’t be getting it. He doesn’t know the exact rules of inheritance, but he suspects that Ryouma will get that one, too.

Several more times Ryouma watches him practice. It’s practically all he does, for months, and he hopes for and dreads Ryouma’s visits; he wants badly for Ryouma to affirm him  _ somehow, _ and he knows it won’t happen. But he shoots true every time, and it stops being a matter of pleasing his brother, and starts being a matter of spiting him. He understands by now that he isn’t someone to be proud of. The least he can be is someone to fear.

One day in late spring, Takumi shoots a falling sakura blossom and pins it to the branch of the tree it blew off of. It’s an age-old tradition of those who wield the yumi, and supposedly only a stunt a battle-seasoned bowman could perfect. He meets Ryouma’s eyes from across the field, and Ryouma says: “Come.”

Shocked is how Takumi feels, following behind his brother like a dog at its master’s heels. Ryouma has never said a word while he trained.

Ryouma brings him to the room with the steel frames and the silkscreen walls, tucked away behind the armory, and shows him inside. There are two tables, and one is empty, with the unmistakable impression of Raijinto upon its silk coverings. On the other lays the intricately gilt frame of a yumi, unstrung.

“The Fujin Yumi, a sacred weapon. The brother to Raijinto. See if it responds.”

Takumi knows what he means; Raijinto had exploded with crackling lightning at Ryouma’s touch, but had hardly gleamed in anyone else’s. Certainly it had done nothing for Takumi.

So he approaches, head held high even though he  _ knows _ what’s going to happen (nothing, it’s nothing, he’s worthless), and he takes the yumi firmly in his hand.

There’s no theatrics as with Raijinto. It simply goes like this: the bow was unstrung before, and it is strung now.

It isn’t even a string, really, just a thread of blue light, unbreakable even as he passes his hand through it. He pulls on it, expecting his hand to pass through it like air; instead it responds like a real string, and resting on the sight is an arrow of that same blue light, and Takumi could cry.

“It’s yours,” Says Ryouma, softly.

This is a grave moment, solemn but full of triumph and pride, the inheritance of an age-old heirloom. They should embrace, as brothers, and move on as one from two, bound by the oath to their sacred weapons and to their kingdom. There should be a heartfelt conversation.

Instead Takumi turns his nose up and says “Of course it is.”

His training field is no longer an option for practice. Any target is a target too flimsy to oppose the Fujin Yumi-  _ his _ Fujin Yumi. He can no longer channel his emotions against blocks of wood or bags of sand.

So he does what he’s always done, and turns it against Nohr instead.

He hunts the Nohrian troops that plague the borders like maggots on meat. Ryouma trains for the throne, and Sakura works her magic on the sick and wounded of Hoshido, and Hinoka flies patrols and takes charge of palace defense. Takumi can’t be useful at home, and he isn’t wanted around anyway (too stubborn an attitude, too sour a face), so he leaves his retainers behind and travels to the borders and fights alongside their troops, and garners a little respect for it.

It’s how he meets Niles, and he would have gladly murdered the degenerate Nohrian scum had he not known about Kamui. 

Niles had tried to the best of his ability to be stealthy- it hadn’t worked, not against Takumi’s trained eyes and ears, and Takumi had nearly shot the lower halves of his legs off. Niles was lucky to have one leg uninjured, but his other had been skewered through the thigh and was bleeding profusely. And Takumi had cursed his aim and stormed up to finish the job.

“So you’re the Hoshidan vigilante,” The thief had remarked, looking not the least bit concerned as he bled out on the grass.

“To call me vigilante is to give you Nohrians more honor than you deserve,” Takumi had said, and unsheathed his dagger.

The Nohrian had the audacity to  _ pout _ .

“You’re going to kill me  _ now _ ? Without even interrogating? Prince Leo was right, Hoshidans have no  _ style _ .”

Takumi had paused- his fatal mistake. “How would a lowly thief like you know a prince of Nohr?” And he’d paused briefly again, then said “Gutter talk from a street rat, no doubt. Die in peace, filth.”

“Straight from the horse’s mouth, my dear,” The Nohrian had said, “And more beyond that, concerning the prince Kamui.” 

Takumi froze.

“Unless you’d rather just shut my filthy mouth. Which, of course, I do understand. I’m only a street rat, spouting- what did you call it?- gutter talk, yes, the only place my mind has ever been.”

“What do you know about Kamui?” Takumi had been dripping menace, eyes blazing. 

The Nohrian had smiled and flipped his hair from out of his eyes (or eye, rather- Takumi had only just seen the eyepatch) and he’d torn his pants a little more where the arrow had pierced. “Fix me up and I’ll tell you.”

Which had brought them to the current predicament- Takumi using his limited field medicine knowledge to stop the bleeding, the thief laying idly by, making crass remarks and being generally annoying. 

Takumi rips aside the fold of cloth hiding the wound, digs in his bag for gauze and antiseptic.

“Eager to see more of me, hm?”

“Shut up, scum, or I’ll take your leg off entirely.”

“My, my, eager for a souvenir already?”

Takumi stops in his ministrations and levels a glare at him that would have withered a lesser man. 

Instead he smiles. “You don’t have to answer. I know ex- _ actly _ what you want.”

“I  _ want _ to know about my brother,” Takumi spits, pulling the tourniquet far tighter than it needs to be.

The thief hardly flinches. He looks pleased, actually. “Your brother,” He says with the air of one greatly amused, “Ah. I hadn’t realized you were a royal yourself. Forgive my poor manners, Your Highness. You can call me Niles, former lowly thief and current retainer to Prince Leo of Nohr. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

And that all at once explains why he was alone, carrying weapons and gear of high quality, wearing fine fabrics embroidered with silver. It also explains the insufferable personality. 

“Prince Takumi of Hoshido,” He sneers, “Something you would have recognized already if you’d been worth half a damn.”

“Don’t project, darling,” Niles says, and Takumi is sorely tempted to break his neck and be done with it. “I was expecting something more… princely. Is this what the Hoshidans have been reduced to?”

“This is a hobby,” Takumi says, and pushes the gauze into the wound with as much force as he can muster (enough to make Niles cry out, and that’s a small morsel of satisfaction). “Not one the rest of the family has picked up, and you’re lucky for it. Tell me about Kamui or I’ll leave you here to rot like you deserve.”

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be rude to leave your siblings out? I’m sure they’re worried sick-”

“They’ll hear it from you directly,” Takumi snaps. “I don’t intend to let you go. Retainer or thief, you’re Nohrian, and inside Hoshidan boundaries. You’re a prisoner of war, or a casualty soon if you don’t speak up.”

Niles looks him over in smug appraisal. “I like a man who takes charge,” He says, lips curled in grin, and Takumi digs his finger into the raw flesh of his wound again.

“You play rough,” Niles says when Takumi has finished his vindictive clawing, and he’s recovered a little. “All right, I’ll pass along what Prince Leo wants me to tell you, but know that I hate having to repeat myself.”

Niles looks pale, and he’s sweating now and breathing harder, and Takumi takes some spiteful joy in that. “I don’t care what you hate. Prince Leo sent you with this message? Or are you lying to save your own skin?”

“Sent with his very own seal, if you’re so suspicious. Check my belongings if you must. He and his siblings have decided to raise their white flag.”

“So Nohr is… surrendering?”

“Not even close, darling. The king knows nothing of this, and it’s imperative that it stay that way. Which is why I was sent to pass it along to you and your siblings and not your mother. The royal fledglings are merely trying to form a sort of… alliance. For when things turn sideways.”

Takumi still doesn’t understand, but he can save that for later- the war aside, this foul-mouthed lout of a retainer knows about  _ Kamui _ .

“And what about Kamui? How does he fit into this?”

“He’s one of the royal fledglings reaching out, of course.” Niles revels in the shock in his face. “What, did you think the king killed him too? He’s brainwashed, of course, but he’s alive and well. Won’t be for much longer, I’m afraid, but that’s just the way of things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Darling-”

Takumi grabs the collar of his shirt and shakes him hard. “What’s going to happen to my brother?” He hisses.

“The king is sick of him,” Niles says, unfazed. His hand comes to rest atop Takumi’s in a disturbingly sensual way, and Takumi drops him immediately, wiping his hand off on the grass and grimacing. 

“So we have to-”

“No rescue missions,” Niles says, sprawled on the ground like it had been his idea to fall. “That was Prince Leo’s first directive. If Kamui is going to make it out alive, we can’t have a host of Hoshidans storming the castle, can we?” 

“How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“Check the message he sent with me. I did offer it before.”

“Where is it? And don’t play games, or I’ll shoot your other leg and call it even.”

Niles begins reaching into a fold of his cloak, and Takumi, realizing his vulnerability, draws his dagger lightning-quick and takes a step back.

“Easy, there,” Niles says, clearly weak from blood loss but still with that languid smile. “Only getting the message you want. You’re free to get it yourself.”

Takumi wouldn’t dig around in his clothes if it ended the war right then and there. “Get it,” He says, sheathing his dagger but drawing the Fujin Yumi, training the ethereal arrow on Niles’ throat, “But no false moves.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” He unbuttons a pocket sewn clumsily into the interior of the cloak, pulls out a small roll of paper bound in black and silver ribbon and sealed with golden wax (the stamp upon it is of a thorny rose circling some kind of book). 

He offers it up to Takumi, hand trembling, and Takumi snatches it from him, inspects the seal. He’s never seen that seal before; the only royal Nohrian seal he’s ever seen is their national emblem, a four-pointed star flanked by twin crescent moons.

“It’s Prince Leo’s personal seal,” Niles tells him, “Brynhildr and a rose. Don’t worry yourself. I used to steal, I’ve never forged.”

Takumi doesn’t know what Brynhildr is, but he can worry about that later- he breaks the seal and unties the ribbon and unrolls the paper, and on it is a brief message written in neat copperplate handwriting: ‘ _ From the royal children of Nohr, to the Hoshidan royals, may this message find you well. We are interested in discussing a possible alliance with you. Our father is not aware of this correspondence, and your mother should not be informed. Send your response with  _ _ this _ _ messenger, no other.’  _ Underneath, in five different kinds of handwriting, are the signatures of the Nohrian royal children. The first name, neat but plain, is Prince Xander. Under that, in a sharp, almost messy scrawl is Princess Camilla, and under that, in that same copperplate, is Prince Leo. Beneath that is a flowery signature that reads Princess Elise. 

And at the very bottom, in solid, blocky, almost awkward letters: Prince Kamui.

Takumi’s heart skips a beat. 

“There you have it,” Niles says, studying his face. “Is that enough to convince you?”

Takumi swallows past the lump in his throat. It takes several tries.

“This is vague,” He says irritably, “How am I supposed to know whether this is sincere or a trap?”

“It’s a leap of faith, sweetheart. I can assure you of Prince Leo’s sincerity, at least, but they’re all very earnest. Kamui and Princess Elise in particular.”

Takumi reads the note over again. His gaze lingers on Kamui’s signature. “We’ll take this to my family and see what they say,” He says. “This isn’t my decision.”

Getting Niles to one of the soldiers’ outposts is a long and difficult task, made even harder by the fact that Niles seems to have no concept of (or simply no respect for) the idea of personal boundaries, and leans on Takumi’s shoulder far more heavily than he needs to. 

“Prince Takumi, who is this?” Asks the guard at the trench, hurrying forward to relieve him of his burden.

Takumi, grateful to not have to touch Niles anymore, brushes some invisible filth off his arm. “A prisoner of war,” He says, abandoning him to his fate with the guardsmen. “I want to rest the night. I’ll be bringing him to Shirasagi in the morning. He claims to have information.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Shall we question him now?”

“I know what I need to know,” Takumi says. “We’ll find out the rest when we arrive at the castle. For now give him a cell to sleep in and call for kinshi mounts for tomorrow.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Your quarters are available whenever you should need them.”

“Where have you been?” Ryouma demands when Takumi finds them having their breakfast the following morning. “You were due back three days ago-” Ryouma falls silent as Niles limps in, hands bound in front of him, smirking like all the world is his to command (but at the very least, he has the good sense to drop to his knees before the royals).

Hinoka nearly spits. “A  _ Nohrian _ ? And you brought him into the castle?”

“Takumi,” Ryouma says sternly, in that disappointed voice of his, and Takumi’s blood boils. “You ought to know better than  _ this _ -”

“He knows Kamui,” Takumi tells them, and the words fall like the executioner’s axe to the chopping block.

The room is so silent he could hear a pin drop, and he stands there, all of them staring between him and Niles but him only glaring fiercely at Ryouma. (Finding news of their stolen brother is one thing Ryouma has never done- one thing Ryouma can never hold over him as eldest brother.)

Ryouma stands. “What does he know?”

But Takumi doesn’t answer, only says that they need to go somewhere private, so they take Niles to a seldom-used service room of the palace, and it’s there that they talk.

“Who are you?” Ryouma demands, an imposing figure as he stands over Niles, who’s seated in a careworn wooden chair (only granted that courtesy to rest his leg, which is swollen and weeping clear fluid, despite the healers’ attentions).

Niles, as always, seems unfazed. “Niles, Your Highness, retainer to Prince Leo of Nohr. I’ve made this introduction already, of course, to your younger brother. A most charming individual, if a little quick to temper.”

Takumi flushes without meaning to, in embarrassment and in anger. “Stop being irritating and tell them what you told me.”

“Why don’t you pass along the message, for one thing?”

“Don’t be insolent,” Takumi snaps, but he  _ had  _ forgotten about the note in his haste to get Niles out of sight. He’d tucked it in his furs to keep it from prying eyes, and he fishes it out and hands it over to Hinoka (a little taste of spite, not letting Ryouma be the first to see).

They’re quiet for a while after reading it, and Ryouma meets his eyes as he passes the paper to Sakura. The disappointment is gone, Takumi notes with satisfaction, replaced by something harder, more complex.

“Where is Kamui now?” Hinoka asks Niles.

“Castle Krakenburg, naturally,” Niles says, and he seems less willing to toy with her the way he’s been toying with Takumi the past few days. “As I’ve told your dear brother, the king has brainwashed him into believing that he’s a blood Nohrian prince. Prince Xander hasn’t seen fit to tell him otherwise, not while Kamui is so closely watched by the king.”

“Brainwashed?” Sakura asks, and looks to Hinoka for comfort, and Hinoka pulls her into a half-hug. “Is he alright?”

“He’s been treated as a prince for his life with us,” Niles says, “To my knowledge, at least. The Nohrian children treat him as family, and the king treats him as a son, though that means little to someone like King Garon. But he’ll be in danger soon, which is why Prince Leo had the idea to reach out.”

“What kind of danger?” Ryouma’s face is drawn in hard lines, and his frown is deep. “Internal?”

Niles is unbearably smug. Takumi has an idea that he revels in the attention. 

“King Garon is notorious for his short attention span, and Kamui no longer entertains him. He’s mediocre as a fighter, nowhere near as skilled as Prince Xander or Princess Camilla, and has little talent with a tome, particularly compared with Prince Leo. Put simply, he’s not a prodigy as his adoptive siblings are. Garon looks upon him as a wasted investment, and rumor has it that he plans to get rid of him soon. You’re very fortunate that the Nohrian children are not as heartless as your Prince Takumi here seems to believe.”

“So what’s the point?” Ryouma tosses the note down on the table in front of him (Sakura picks it up, and her eyes fall to the bottom of the page- Takumi can sympathize, but he makes no remark on it). “This has no substance to it. What do you want?”

“Well, there’s nothing  _ I _ want. I’m nothing but the messenger. As for Prince Leo and his siblings- they want to help you, and specifically they want to help you get Kamui out of the king’s reach. Beyond that I couldn’t say.”

“But what’s their  _ motive _ ?” Hinoka crosses her arms, a perfect mirror of Ryouma. “They’re not just going to give him  _ back _ . That’s not how it works.”

Finally, an expression other than haughty smug amusement: Niles looks exasperated.

“You’re missing the point,” Niles says, rolls his eyes, and Takumi can see in Hinoka’s body language that she wants to slap him. Silently Takumi hopes that she does. “I do believe I told you that they see Kamui as a brother. They love him, hard as that may be for you to swallow. They-  _ we _ \- want to see him safe. That means returning him to his motherland and his blood family.”

“But you say he doesn’t know that we’re his blood family.”

Niles regards Ryouma with a kind of tired patience. “We’re  _ going  _ to tell him,” He says, “Or you’ll tell him, when the occasion presents itself. For now, though, we know what’s better for him, and it’s safer that he stays ignorant.”

Hinoka slams her hand on the table in front of him (he doesn’t even flinch). “How would  _ Nohrians _ know what’s better for  _ our _ brother?”

With an expression that’s almost bored, Niles looks at her hand. He blinks slowly. He looks up at her. It’s barely a gesture at all, but it’s an infuriating show of insolence just the same. “Because he lives with us, dear,” He says with a lazy smile, and Ryouma has to physically restrain Hinoka to keep her from hitting him.

“Yes, do hit me,” Niles says as Ryouma gently ushers Hinoka from the room, Sakura following at her heels, concerned. “It’s a wonderful show of goodwill towards the people who are guarding your brother’s life. Not to mention a good way to make sure your return message arrives safely.”

Ryouma stands by the door, and beckons Takumi over, and stares Niles down. “You are in no position to make threats. I’m going to speak to my family, and you ought to pray to whatever gods you keep that they’re in a generous mood.”

He closes the door behind them (Niles no doubt making some inflammatory comment as he does), and Takumi begins to walk away, but Ryouma stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Takumi turns stiffly to look him in the eyes.

“Do you believe him?” Ryouma asks.

Takumi hadn’t been expecting Ryouma to take his opinion into account. Ryouma is the crown prince, after all, and Takumi is only his disappointment of a little brother.

“Unfortunately,” Takumi answers. “He’s nearly driven me to murder in the few days I’ve known him, but I don’t think he’s lying.”

Ryouma sighs, and his hand drops from Takumi’s shoulder, and he sighs. “All right,” He says. “This is… monumental. If he’s telling the truth. You did well finding him. Even if you worried us half to death… I’m proud of you, Taki.”

It’s the first time Ryouma has used that stupid nickname in years. It’s bittersweet, and Takumi can only stand there in silence, willing himself not to crack.

“I want you to write our response,” Ryouma continues, voice quiet. “Hinoka will be too aggressive, and as you know I’m very busy. I’m trusting you with this.”

“Okay,” Says Takumi, still dangerously close to breaking.

“You have my permission to release him with the message when the message is ready.”

“I shot him in the leg.”

Ryouma nods. “Well, he’s lucky your aim was off.”

 

Takumi sits down and gives their response a lot of thought. The Nohrians were vague, so he ought to be too- but he wants to write an entire essay to Kamui, to ask if he’s okay, to introduce himself as his  _ real _ brother, to tell him everything the Nohrians have done and tell him about his actual family and his real home. But Niles had said that it was unsafe for Kamui to know, and while Takumi doesn’t trust him as far as he can throw him, he can see the unfortunate truth in it. So he doesn’t write to Kamui, doesn’t pointedly introduce them as his  _ real family _ . 

‘ _ To the Nohrians _ ,’ He writes, and it’s a sentence he’d never expected to write, ‘ _ We the Hoshidans have received your message. We will talk if you can guarantee secrecy. Your messenger has explained the situation. What do you want from  _ us _? _ ’ (He keeps himself from adding ‘ _ You _ stole him, after all.’ Somehow he thinks that wouldn’t be appropriate in friendly correspondence.)

When it’s late at night and most of the castle’s inhabitants are asleep, he slips into his siblings’ rooms to get them to sign off the way the Nohrians had- Hinoka nearly stabs through the paper, she’s so upset at being woken- and he goes to Ryouma last, for him to fill that space at the top of the list. Ryouma signs, in his quick neat lines, but he doesn’t seal it.

“I brought it here last for a reason,” Takumi says, irritated. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

“That’s not it,” Ryouma says, rubs the sleep from his eyes. “I was planning on sending Niles off with you. I thought you would be the one to seal it.”

Takumi blinks. “You’re the oldest.”

“So is Prince Xander, but you say it was Prince Leo who left his seal on it. You found Niles and you abstained from killing him,” Ryouma says, and there’s a rare trace of humor in his smile, “It should be yours.”

Takumi can’t even remember where his seal press and wax are. He never has reason to use them. “Okay,” He says, “Fine. But if he gets caught and we’re exposed, I’m saying you framed me.”

Niles isn’t asleep as they’d expected him to be; he’s laying on the futon they brought him, propped up against the wall and cleaning under his fingernails with a dagger he’s certainly not supposed to have. The bindings on his wrists are conspicuously absent.

He gives Ryouma only a cursory glance, but he seems delighted when Takumi follows him in and closes the door.

“Visitors? I’m flattered,” He says, tucking the dagger away. “I hope you’ve brought something to eat. I’m famished.”

“We have provisions for your journey back,” Ryouma says. “Nothing special, mind you.”

“Sending me packing already?” The disappointment in his voice sounds almost sincere. “In case you’re forgetting, your sharpshooter here nearly took my leg off at the knee.”

“Princess Hinoka has generously agreed to fly you to the border,” Ryouma tells him. “From there I’m sure you’ll find your way.”

“No hospitality here in Hoshido,” Niles laments as they escort him through deserted hallways to where Hinoka and her pegasus wait outside. “Shot, dragged to a cell, flown to  _ another _ cell, made to travel while I’m injured… and here I’d heard that Hoshido was known for its compassion.”

“Hoshidan hospitality is the fact that you aren’t rotting at the border right now,” Takumi snaps, fiercely defensive of his home and his people.

“That was an accident, if I recall correctly.”

“I could’ve killed you afterwards. There’s your  _ compassion _ .”

“Why, color me impressed,” Niles says, with that stupid irritating smile of his, “I was beginning to think you weren’t capable.”

“You’re one to talk, Nohrian.” Takumi pushes him out the doors a little more roughly than he needs to, so that Niles only just saves himself from tripping.

Hinoka treats him just as carelessly helping him onto the pegasus, and he sits awkwardly- clearly he’s not much of a rider. 

“Any funny business and I’ll push you off,” She says, and Takumi revels in the genuine fear he can see in Niles’ face. “There are plenty of other message runners in the land, and a million more tolerable than you.”

That’s the last Takumi sees of him for months, until finally he shows up on the night of a new moon, lounging outside Takumi’s window and slicing a peach in his palm, and Takumi “accidentally” almost shoves Niles off the sill when he pushes aside the glass.

And that’s how it begins, the big secret between the Hoshidan kids and the Nohrian, little vague notes run back and forth by the world’s most irritating retainer, trying to figure out how to save their stolen brother even as he has no idea that he’s stolen to begin with.


End file.
